Second Date
by damfinogal
Summary: This was written after the season 2 finale, in response to the anti-Cameron vehemence on the House boards. It's intended to be a fun but serious, in-character imagining of a second date between House & Cameron, and its after-math, also featuring Wilson!
1. Chapter 1

SECOND DATE

CHAPTER 1

Cameron stood at the machine, staring at its screen, waiting for the test results. In her head, she could hear the rhythmic chant of her own voice, "Please be negative. Please be negative. Be negative." A positive result would mean a fairly quick and painful death for House's current patient. It was not a death sentence Cameron wanted the responsibility of knowing about, or having to inform the patient about. A negative result still left the boy in question mysteriously ill, but with hope for a diagnosis that was treatable. "Be negative," she murmured.

Cameron's head snapped up and she gazed over her shoulder as House pushed through the door. She had known it would be House; she always seemed to be able to sense his presence moments before she actually knew of it. A wave of irritation flashed through her. He always caught her when she was vulnerable or upset; did he have some sort of radar? She thought she detected both anger and irritation in his eyes. She could feel a slight flush warming her cheeks and a tensing of her muscles as he neared Part of her reaction was in response to his attitude. But the rest… well, that was too much—and too familiar—for her to deal with at the moment. She turned back towards the screen wordlessly.

House waited for Cameron to look away before allowing his eyes to roam down her figure, then back up. She stood rigid with nerves. The cause of her tension, however, was more ambiguous. Just how much of it was her anticipation of the test results? And how much was due to his presence?

A familiar aching anger rolled through House as he watched the distress on Cameron's face. She was always doing this to herself; caring too much, then hurting too much. Investing so much into people when people, House knew, were seldom worth the effort.

She needed a distraction, he decided. At the thought, he entertained the idea of exploring his curiosity; just how much of Cameron's tension was due to his presence, and how could he use that to distract her? His eyes dropped to the profile of Cameron's lips, but he quickly pulled them back up to her eyes. Yes, he thought to himself, the eyes, and the pain and concern he saw in them. House decided to go with the easiest and most assured method of distraction: anger. Anger, he could always do. Anger, he was good at.

"Results in yet?" he asked, though he knew they weren't.

"Any minute now," Cameron replied, her eyes fixated on the screen.

House waited a beat. He loved leaving beats in conversations. It always made it seem more dramatic when he spoke. "Care to make a bet on the results? I say the kid dies." He kept his eyes on Cameron's face, ready to meet the anger in her eyes as she turned to face him.

"Unlike you," Cameron spoke slowly, "I don't take pleasure—or profit—from someone else's troubles."

House pushed his cane to the side a bit as he leaned forward. "Why not? What's he gonna care?" He paused, knowing they had been through this argument before. When he spoke again, it was with the sharp edge of sarcasm. "Oh, come now. Have some fun! High stakes betting! Winner claims whatever they want, no limits!" He paused again for dramatic effect. House knew the dramatics would irritate Cameron all the more. "I say it's positive," he continued. "Kid's dying. You don't agree. The question is, how willing are you to stand by your diagnosis?" House let the question hang. He didn't expect Cameron to take the bet, but he did expect her to argue about it. Cameron, however, wasn't rising to his bait quite so easily these days.

Silence. Frustrated, House turned and headed for the door. He had just reached out to push through when Cameron replied. She only spoke one word, but that was enough to cause House to stop in surprise. "Fine," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Cameron waited for House to reach for the door before speaking. She caught House's sudden stop from the corner of her eye, then the movement as he turned to face her again.

Cameron knew House was right. Their bet wouldn't have an actual effect on the outcome of the test, or on the rest of the boy's life, however long it may be. But Cameron also knew the bet would result in a guilt that made her feel less human. As a doctor, she valued life, and flippant bets had always seemed a degradation of her values.

But, Cameron thought, perhaps she was wrong. She knew House wasn't immune to the boy. She had seen him, not five hours before, leaning towards the bed-ridden child and speaking softly. Unaware of her scrutiny, House's face had been uncharacteristically open. There had been concern, empathy, and anger at the cruel situation of a young boy in terrible pain. The emotions she had seen on his face in the room with the patient had been gone five minutes later when House joined Cameron, Chase, and Foreman for the diagnostic speculation that resulted in the test whose results she was currently awaiting.

So, she thought, maybe she was wrong. Maybe a flippant bet didn't destroy humanity, but resulted from it. And maybe, just maybe, if she bet on the outcome, her conviction would align with the fates and give her the result she wanted. "Fine" had escaped her lips before all these thoughts had been fully processed. Regardless, she thought as she finally glanced over at House, it was always fun to make House take pause.

Her cheeks heated a bit under his intense gaze. She knew she was acting a bit out of character and could practically hear his brain humming, "Anomaly." House opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud beep and a flash on the screen. His eyes flicked behind Cameron to the machine, but Cameron's body blocked the results from his view. He leaned a bit to his right. Cameron moved her body to mirror his, keeping his vision blocked.

House looked back and Cameron. She remained still for a moment, eyes locked on his. She suddenly felt very calm, very sure, and her muscles relaxed a bit as some of her tension drained. "Results are ready," she said. "Do we have a bet?"

House waited a moment before replying. "We have a bet."

Cameron lifted an eyebrow. "Anything goes?"

House's eyes remained on hers. They stood several feet apart, but to Cameron it felt like he was merely inches away. She heard no trace of sarcasm, nor confidence, in his voice when he replied. "Anything goes."

Cameron let his statement hang for a moment, mimicking House's flair for the dramatic. She almost smiled. He wasn't immune to her, she was sure of it. And if she was a betting man—which she wasn't, she assured herself, despite her current situation, because she was, in fact, a woman—she'd bet that House wasn't thinking of monetary gain at the moment.

She turned her head to read the screen, keeping House blocked. When she didn't react immediately, House moved toward the monitor. Cameron waited until he was inches from her before shifting, allowing him to see the results. He stared at it as she spoke. "Negative. The boy just might live. Now let's figure out what is wrong, while we still can."

"I'll gather Chase and Foreman," Cameron replied as she walked toward the exit.

House waited for her to cross the room and reach out for the door before he spoke. "Cameron!" She stopped and waited. After a few moments, House took his eyes off the screen and brought them to hers. "The bet," he said. "What did you win?"

Cameron searched his face for a moment, wishing she could place what she saw there. Nerves? Dread? Detachment? "A second date," she replied. "Tonight. Be at my place by seven." As she walked away, Cameron couldn't hold back her smile. There had clearly been surprise on House's face. But that wasn't all she had seen. She had also seen fear.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Wilson lounged on House's couch and watched as his friend undid his tie and start the knotting process for a third time. House had just recounted the scene in the lab with Cameron. Wilson wanted to smile but held it back because he didn't want to agitate House further. Contemplating the betting scenario, Wilson thought back to the scene that had taken place in his office several hours earlier.

It had been close to the end of his work day when House had barged into his office. Wilson, standing over his desk, had looked up and opened his mouth to get the first word in. After a glance at House's face, however, Wilson had decided to withhold his comment about a certain limping jerk avoiding work while other doctors are kept busy. House had thrown himself into the chair across from Wilson and began to brood while slowly twirling his cane. Wilson sat back into his own chair and decided to wait. He knew that cane twirl. House was definitely agitated.

"I've got a date with Cameron tonight," House finally blurted with a frown.

Wilson's eyebrows shot up. "She asked you out again?"

House cocked his head slightly. "What makes you think _she_ asked _me_?"

Wilson hunched forward in excitement. "_You_ asked _her_ out again!"

"Not what I said," House replied. "And I couldn't ask her out _again_, seeing as I've never asked her out in the first place."

"You took her to that monster truck show," Wilson recounted playfully. "That consisted of you, and her, and the outdoors. You asked her out."

"To accompany me as a friend to an event, and that's not how you meant it," House argued. "You meant 'asked her out' as in 'asked her on a date', which I didn't. And I made that clear to Cameron."

"What a romantic." Wilson leaned back with a smile. "So. You've never asked her out."

"No."

"But you've been out with her twice."

"Only once as a date!"

Wilson's smile widened, along House's frown did the same. House sounded like a defensive teenage boy. Silence hung in the room as Wilson's mind mulled over the situation. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sharp rap of wood on wood as House's cane, still in constant rotation, put a dent in the corner of Wilson's desk. Wilson was fairly certain House had done that intentionally, but he didn't care. He was too intrigued by the conclusions he was coming to. "So." Wilson spoke slowly, savoring House's mood. "Cameron did ask you out."

House pushed himself to his feet and moved towards the door. "Not exactly," he answered.

"Then what—?"

House cut him off. "Stop by my place after work?"

Wilson knew he wouldn't get any more information out of House at the moment. He nodded, "Yeah. Okay." As he watched House nod and walk away, he turned his thoughts to tracking down Cameron.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

House stared at his reflection in a small mirror as he began to work on his tie for a third time. He waited, curious to hear his friend's reaction to the scene with Cameron that he had just described. Wilson said nothing for several moments, and House's tie was quickly becoming a mess.

Finally, Wilson spoke up. "Why would she want to go out with you again?"

House paused for a flicker of a second, then proceeded to yank the mangled tie off again. Wilson had voiced the question that had been foremost in House's mind since he lost the bet. He didn't like hearing Wilson reflect his own thoughts. Somehow, a part of him had hoped Wilson would think better of him than he did himself, and have something positive to offer. Wasn't that what friends were for? Instead, Wilson was at as much of a loss for Cameron's reasoning as House was. House glanced over at Wilson. "I don't know." And it made him uneasy.

"I mean, last time, you didn't bother to pull any of the punches you threw at her, did you?"

"Despite what people think me capable of, I don't hit women," House snapped. "Unless I have a really good reason for it."

"Your warped defense mechanism is reason enough for you," Wilson retorted. He stood from the couch, his voice getting heated, as if he were warming up for a sparring session. "You have no qualms about knocking people out with verbal punches. It's a great way to keep people at a safe distance. That, and cracking inappropriate remarks."

House closed himself off from Wilson's words. Wilson had said such things before, and House didn't like hearing them. Didn't like thinking about them. Didn't like considering the truth to them. Instead, he attacked with a sudden thought. "What makes you say that?"

Wilson, presuming that House was listening to him, replied, "Because they are! A lot of people wouldn't know what to think about you and that crack about hitting women. Most people might believe you are enough of a bastard to actually do it. God knows, you give them reason enough to-"

"Not that," House said. "What you said before, about me not holding back on her." He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "What makes you say that?"

Wilson took a deep breath. "What?"

"You sounded awfully confident when you said that." House leaned forward. "The kind of confidence someone has when they think they know what they're talking about."

Wilson stared. "So?"

"I didn't give you a detailed description of my date with Cameron. Yet you're lecturing me as if you know what happened. What did Cameron say to you?"

"She didn't have to say anything," Wilson answered. "It's what you always do. Especially since Stacy. And the more danger there is of a person actually getting to you, the harder you throw your punches."

House looked down at his twisted tie in one hand and cane in the other. "Cameron can't get to me. I don't even like her."

"No?" Wilson asked. "Why did you agree to the first date?"

House looked up with his "duh" expression. "Do you know how long it's been since I got to cop a feel while pinning flowers to my date's dress?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You could have said no."

"It's not as fun watching your date touch herself." House rapped his cane against the ground. "Wait, that actually sounds like more fun, doesn't it?"

Wilson refused to let the issue go. Perhaps one of these times his words would penetrate that thick skull of House's. "If you weren't interested, you'd have just told her no, probably called her an idiot. Then bullied her into coming back to work. Or simply hired another of the many qualified applicants you saw." House looked up at the ceiling in frustration as Wilson spoke, a heavy feeling in his gut. "Why didn't you?"

House looked back at Wilson. "The shoes, remember?"

"Why didn't you just say no?"

"'Just say no?' Are you equating Cameron to drugs?"

"Are you addicted to her?"

House threw the forsaken tie to the floor and turned toward his bedroom. He couldn't listen to Wilson any longer. "You're not helping," he growled. Several minutes later, he emerged from his bedroom.

Wilson, who had seated himself on the couch during House's absence, looked up and noted House's change in wardrobe from black slacks and jacket to worn jeans and a t-shirt. Wilson's brow furrowed. "Why did you change? Where are you going for dinner?"

"Don't know," House replied. "Cameron said she had plans. Knowing her, I'd bet she wants to go to the same place we went to last time."

"And so you changed out of your nice clothes?"

"Yup!" House limped toward his door and grabbed his bike jacket and helmet. "She can't say I backed out of the date if I show up, can she? It's totally her fault that she didn't tell me how to dress."

"So you intend to let her get dressed up with nowhere to go?"

House shrugged into his jacket. "Pretty much."

Wilson stood by the couch as House opened the front door. "And you didn't even get her flowers?"

"Nope," House replied as he walked out. "So feel free to cook me some dinner before you leave. I'll probably need it. And don't forget to lock the door."

Wilson waited until he heard the engine of House's bike start up before walking to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and smiled at the little plastic container holding a corsage. "She likes lame," he murmured.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Cameron paced her apartment in nervous anticipation. As she waited for House to arrive, she replayed the conversation she had had earlier with Wilson. She had been sitting in the cafeteria when she saw him approaching. She hadn't been surprised to see him, or to hear him ask, "Can we talk?"

"House told you about our date?"

"Yes." Wilson stood close to where she sat, speaking in a quiet tone and glancing around. "Look, can we go someplace else?" His eyes continued to roam the cafeteria. "House tends to pop up whenever I'm around food, so I'd feel safer if we weren't here."

Cameron sighed and stood. Grabbing her tray, she followed him to the exit, dropping most of her uneaten meal into a trash can along the way. She wasn't sure she'd have much of an appetite after the impending conversation, anyway.

Wilson led her to an empty clinic room and shut the door. "So, it's true? You _do_ have a date with him tonight?"

Cameron knew Wilson had House's welfare in mind, so she couldn't fault him for getting involved. But she wasn't sure if she could count him as a friend or foe where her interests in House were concerned. She smiled, but it was forced, tight like the muscles that had tensed throughout her body. "Yup."

Wilson looked at her for a moment, his face intent, before blurting, "Why would you want to go out with him again?"

Cameron crossed her arms and leaned against the wall behind her. The hint of a smile she showed twisted into a frown as she contemplated his question. She wasn't sure that she could answer him. At least, not in any way that would make sense to anyone except herself. "On our last date," she began, speaking slowly as she chose her words, "I blew it." She leaned her head back against the wall and looked up. "I thought I had it all figured out," she said, embarrassment heavy in her voice. "House is a guy who likes to push, and he has fun when he's pushed back. So I pushed."

Wilson looked down at the floor, his mind racing to imagine House in a scenario with a pretty woman who was pushing him. "And he pushed back?"

"Threw a right jab that practically knocked me out." Cameron frowned. Wasn't a right jab something to do with boxing? Was boxing a sport? Had she just used a sport metaphor? She shook her head in disgust, but couldn't think of a better description for the shock, pain, loss of balance that his words had initially caused her. Wilson, sensing her need for it, waited for her to continue. Cameron brought her eyes back down from the ceiling to meet Wilson's. "What you said to me, before that last date," she said haltingly, "I didn't believe it."

Wilson looked at her with some confusion, trying to recall the entire conversation.

"When you cautioned me about breaking House's heart," Cameron explained. "I hadn't really thought it possible. I guess I figured…." Cameron shrugged and looked down. "House is so confident with his work that it's easy to imagine he's just as confident in everything he does." Her eyes returned to Wilson's. "But he wasn't comfortable with me at dinner. So I pushed him, asked him how he felt about me."

Intrigued, Wilson folded his arms. He had a good idea where Cameron's story was heading, but was eager to hear the details.

"I was hoping for some kind words." Cameron smiled a bit before continuing, "But I was expecting some sort of flippant remark. Instead, he recited a laundry-list of reasons why I couldn't love him. Then he dismissed my feelings as some pathological need to fix people, because of the situation with my husband."

Wilson sighed and unfolded his arms. Shifting, he wondered how best to apologize for House and soothe some of the psychological damage his remarks had caused. He didn't know how much truth there was to House's accusations, but he was concerned for Cameron nonetheless. The situation with her late husband was bad enough that Wilson didn't want her beating herself up over pathologies that might have caused it.

Cameron saw the concern on Wilson's face and continued before he could speak. "He was wrong," she said with heat. She caught Wilson's eyes as he looked up in surprise before speaking again. "I mean, it's probably true to some extent. But, if it is, it wasn't the only reason I married my husband. Not everybody's as self-obsessed as House is. The thing is," Cameron continued, trying to get back to the purpose of the conversation, "I hadn't realized how damaged he really is until then. And I had your words pounding in my head. It scared me. And I backed off."

Cameron wasn't sure if she was reading pity or empathy in Wilson's expression. She pushed herself from against the wall and unfolded her arms, annoyed and embarrassed. She wanted the conversation to be over, she wanted to go home, she wanted to think, she wanted to empty her mind completely. What was she trying to explain? Why she wanted a second date? "I don't like how self-destructive House is getting. I'm worried about him."

"And you want to fix him." Wilson stated.

"I want to _help_ him!" Cameron spoke with a sharp edge of anger. She wasn't about to let Wilson dismiss her feelings the way House had done. "Because I care about him and can't not _try_ to do something!"

Wilson sat down on the examination table in the center of the room. He thought back to his plan to have Cuddy barter House off of the Vicodin for a week in order to get House to face his addiction. He recalled all the verbal battles he and House had engaged in the past several years as Wilson tried desperately to snap House out of his determination to remain miserable. He knew exactly what Cameron meant, he admitted. "And tonight's date, that's part of you wanting to help him?"

"Part of it. I think he needs people more than he'll ever admit. If he'll let me, I can at least be a friend." Cameron hesitated, unsure of Wilson's feelings about what she was saying. "He's going to need more than one when he hits bottom."

Wilson sat in silence for several moments as he digested Cameron's words. He sighed heavily, thinking about the difficulty of the situation. He wasn't sure House would open up to anyone else ever again, and if he did, certainly not without putting up a good fight. Wilson cared for Cameron, felt a certain kinship with her. A good friend should probably be warning her away, despite the possibilities she offered as an ally in the fight for House (which is how he had begun to think of his friendship with House in recent months). But a good friend to House… Wilson felt a spark of hope. "I meant what I said before," he said. "If House opens up to you, and you hurt him…"

Cameron was unaware that she straighter and her shoulders squared. "The one thing House conveniently ignores about the situation with my late husband was the strength that it took." She inclined her head and waited to be sure Wilson's eyes were staring right back into hers, until she was sure he was listening. "It was hard. But I didn't run from it, from him. I _don't _run." Cameron let her statement hang in the air for several moments before walking out, ending the conversation. She pulled the door shut behind her without turning around, and missed seeing Wilson's face, with the unfocused eyes looking downward, and the smile that slowly spread.

Cameron's head snapped toward the window as she was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a bike engine approaching. She took several long breaths to calm herself, and offered a prayer to a god she didn't believe in that she do things better on her second date.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

House parked in front of Cameron's apartment and was surprised to see Cameron walking towards him before he had even managed to get off his bike. He was even more surprised to take in her dark blue jeans, deep red top, and a bag slung over one shoulder. She was meeting him outside in casual dress. She wouldn't be dressed for the restaurant in that. Was there some kind of emergency at the hospital? he wondered. Or was it a personal emergency, he thought, belatedly remembering that, unlike him, she had a life outside of work. He felt a twist of disappointment in his gut at the idea, then quickly cursed himself for it, since getting out of the date was actually his current goal.

"You're late," Cameron called as she approached. She nodded to a vehicle parked several yards down. "Come on, we'll take my car."

House had begun to dismount his bike and stumbled slightly at her words. Grinding his teeth, he braced himself with his cane and pulled off his helmet. Cameron had angled her path and was heading toward her car at a brisk pace. "We're going on the date?" he asked, a bit dumbfounded. This wasn't playing out at like he anticipated. Cameron answered "yes" over her shoulder and House found himself following her. He was aggravated to see the gap between them widening as she strode forward and he limped along. "Hello!" he shouted. "Cripple here! Is this how you treat all your dates? It's no wonder you're still single."

Cameron reached the driver side door and stopped before turning to face him. "Is this how you talk to all your dates? It's no wonder you're single," she mimicked. House made a face as he approached, and Cameron couldn't help but add, "Glad to see you didn't get all dressed up or anything."

House gave Cameron a once-over, taking in her outfit, clean face, and softly curled hair. Cameron looked down and away quickly, as if regretting her last statement. She unlocked her car and opened her door, sliding into her seat without looking at him. House rested against the car for a moment, arm on the roof. It seemed that his wardrobe wasn't getting him out of the date. And he was already off of his bike and across a parking lot. What could he say to get out of the date at this point? Nothing convincing was coming to mind. Or perhaps nothing seemed to be a good enough excuse because, well, House admitted, he was curious. Having made his decision, House stretched his moment of reflection to last longer than needed with the hope that it would annoy Cameron. Several moments later, he opened his door and got into the car. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Cameron replied. "I should warn you, though, that it's going to be a bit of a ride."

"Oh, I bet it will be," House said suggestively.

Cameron smiled her response. The car settled into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, because both were too involved in their own thoughts to become too aware of the other. And comfortable because, as was often the case, whenever House's mouth was shut, annoyance and anger were generally absent.

They had been driving for almost twenty minutes before House turned to look at her intently. "You look good."

Cameron's eyes widened in shock before darting between him and the road, assessing House as if waiting for the catch. When he held silent, she turned back to the road with a small smile. "Thank you."

House knew the smart, kind move would be to leave it at that. He sat in silence for several moments, telling himself to be smart and kind. A full minute later, he continued. "Most women, when they go for that I-Just-Threw-This-On-Because-I'm-Naturally-This-Gorgeous look, they still look like they've been primping for hours. But not you."

He paused as Cameron stole a glance at him. "Are you still trying to compliment me?"

"Just observing," House replied. "Even with the casual look, women tend to take loads of time to put on makeup that's supposed to look like they aren't wearing makeup. Which is stupid if you ask me. Hookers don't try to hide their makeup. And they only take seconds in my bathroom to reapply. Cameron shifted in her seat. "You, on the other hand, appear to be makeup-free. And freshly scrubbed."

"So?"

"Mascara's a tricky thing to wash off in a hurry. Especially if you are predisposed to crying and buy the waterproof stuff."

Cameron shot House a look, then bent toward her rearview mirror. She examined her face as thoroughly as she could with quick glances in the darkness of twilight. "I don't see anything."

"Neither do I," House said. "Why'd you look?"

Cameron stiffened, then eased herself back into her seat and stared at the road ahead. "I wore mascara to work today and I wash my face after work. So? There's nothing wrong with that."

"You didn't have mascara on today," House replied. He waited several moments for Cameron to respond. When she didn't, he continued. "And you curled your hair."

"What does that-?"

"You want me to believe that you took the time to curl your hair but didn't bother with makeup?" House interrupted. "And you're wearing your mother's earrings again."

Cameron shifted in her seat again, eyes still intent on the road. House could see her tensing up as she anticipated his words. "I'm betting you were all dressed up and ready for another fancy dinner. A Take Two of date number one?" When Cameron didn't reply, House pushed further. "Should I call the restaurant and cancel the reservations?" Her mouth became a taut line and her knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel, but she remained silent. House's voice took on a sharper edge. "Something made you change, and fast. A phone call, perhaps? Talk to Wilson lately?"

Cameron refused to reply. For House, it was a damning silence. He replayed to himself the discussion with Wilson at his apartment. A sting of betrayal rippled through House. He stared at Cameron's profile, then skimmed his gaze over the rest of her. He watched as her frame slowly relaxed and color crept back into to her fingers.

"Why would Wilson have to call me?" she finally asked. She looked at House, waited for his eyes to meet hers before looking back at the road.

House cursed himself silently, turning to look out his window as he considered the box he had neatly placed himself in-one that Cameron had neatly placed him in.

Cameron relaxed some more, almost feeling normal again. House was rarely silent. She had kept her silence, afraid to push him like she had on the first date, especially when this date hadn't really even begun. But his astuteness annoyed her. Screw it, she thought, he can't go anywhere. "To wish me luck?" she continued. "To warn me about something? About you?"

House didn't answer, and she decided to let it drop. If he were to answer, to admit that he had dressed down intentionally, they both knew it would allow her to ask why, to challenge his need to get out of the date. Neither were sure they were ready to approach the subject. Both retreated to the safety and neutrality of silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of House's cane against the floorboard of Cameron's car.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Not quite an hour later, House found himself gaping as they approached their destination. "A drive-in theater?" House tore his gaze from the sign to stare at Cameron. He waited as she paid their entrance fee and continued on before speaking again. "We drove all this way for a movie?"

Cameron smiled. "_Movies_," she corrected. "And not just any movies. Tonight is a celebration."

She didn't say any more, and House twisted in his seat as he looked around for signs advertising the night's features. He wasn't seeing anything, and cursed himself for not paying more attention to the other signs as they had pulled up. It wasn't like him to miss something like that, but, hell, he hadn't been able to get over the sign announcing their destination at a drive-in theater. "A celebration of what?"

Cars littered the lot, and they pulled into a space close to the back. Cameron popped her door open as she glanced down at her watch. "You'll have your answer in about twelve minutes." She jumped out, then turned to lean back in. "I'm going to get food. I'll be right back."

While he waited, House opened his own door and hoisted himself out of his seat. He watched Cameron load food into her arms several yards away and make her way back toward him. Several containers were stacked in her arms and she had to use her chin to prevent the smaller boxes on top from sliding off the bucket of popcorn. House couldn't prevent a smile as she approached with a plastic container of nachos outstretched, a plea for House to take it and free her hand.

"Good thing you got the food," he quipped. He relieved her of the nachos and set them on the hood of the car. Turning back around, he quickly reached forward to grab a box of candy that was sliding loose as the pieces of popcorn that was its foundation fell to the ground. He felt himself overbalancing, caught the candy, and threw himself backwards. Alarm flashed over Cameron's face as his body made a soft thudding sound against her car. House quickly held up the box of Junior Mints in one hand and the cane in his other. "Or this is all we'd have had for dinner."

Cameron thanked him with a smile and deposited the rest of the food-popcorn and slices of pizza included-on the hood of the car. She turned to thank House again and found herself inches from him. He watched her closely as her smile faltered and her gaze flickered downward. He felt an unsettling warmth flash through him and he began to slowly lean forward.

Cameron felt her gut tighten in sudden awareness. No, she told herself. Not now. No pushing it. She looked back up, saw the distance between them narrowing, and plastered a fake smile on her face. "Now, for the drinks," she said with forced brightness. She took a deep breath and quickly made her way back toward the concession stand.

House felt a slight whoosh of air pass through his lips as he watched her walk away and realized he had been holding his breath. He gave himself a little shake and turned toward the food, slowly migrating it from the outside to the inside of the car. He remained standing by his open door as Cameron came back with two gigantic cups of soda, waiting for her to get close again when she handed him his drink. Instead, she breezed by him to cross to her door and gestured for him to do the same. "Movie'll be starting in a few minutes," she said.

House sighed and sat in the car. Cameron took several minutes to fuss about the arrangement of the junk she had bought for them to eat, then another minute adjusting the dial on the radio. Everything settled, she sat back and stared in nervous agitation out the front window at the blank screen before them. House let her sit for several moments before breaking the tension. He yawned, long and loud, as he exaggeratedly stretched his arms up, and then brought them back down, dropping his left arm over Cameron's shoulders.

Cameron looked over at him and he shrugged. "Slick, huh? Isn't that what guys do when their date's brought them to a 'passion pit'?" House threw on a serious face, and matched it with his tone. "But before we do anything, you should know, I don't have a lettered jacket or class ring to give you to parade around at school tomorrow." Cameron rolled her eyes and pushed his arm up and off of her shoulders. House let it drop back onto them. "I must say, Allison. A sweaty bout in a little car in public is more daring than I expected from you." She cut him a glare before looking back at the still blank screen, but she couldn't quite keep the corner of her mouth from flicking upward. And she didn't try to push his arm from her shoulders again. House caught her smile and returned it. "Though I should warn you," he continued, "You might be uncomfortable with such a big stick."

Cameron's widened eyes flew to his. He held them for several moments before glancing down at the hand that was holding up his cane, forcing her eyes to follow. She stared at it for several seconds before letting out a loud burst of laughter.

House took that moment to shift the arm he had slung over her shoulder so that his fingers barely grazed the bare skin of her opposite arm just below the sleeve of her t-shirt, and as she laughed, he absorbed it through his fingertips. She slowly quieted. House felt her still and tense as she became aware of his touch. She turned and opened her mouth to speak, unsure of what she would say, and was saved by the flickering of lights and crackling of a soundtrack over the radio as their movie began. House cocked his head to the side as the lone sound of a piano began a quick, upbeat tune. He looked out the window to see a grainy black and white image appear, and old text in boxes announcing the title of the movie. He sat back in surprise as the familiar short moustache, black jacket, and round hat of the Tramp appeared onscreen. "Chaplin?" House asked.

Cameron was watching him instead of the opening titles. "Silent comedy festival," Cameron said.

House smiled and settled into his seat, eyes on the screen. "I always liked Keaton better," he said.

"He's next." Cameron smiled. "But I wanted to be here in time for Chaplin, as well." House looked at her curiously, and Cameron's smile filled her face as she explained, "You know, to laugh at the guy with a big stick."

This time it was House who let out a loud shout of laughter. Cameron closed her eyes for a brief moment as he laughed. His fingertips still rested on her arm, and this time, it was she who absorbed his laughter as they brushed her skin. Her smile remained as she focused on the antics onscreen, certain that it was the first real laugh from House she had ever heard that was totally void of sarcasm or cynicism.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Cameron steered the car down the road she lived on, noting the long stretch of silence that had enveloped the car. The ride back had been filled with easy conversation, mostly about the films and actors they had just seen on the screen. Both had agreed upon their particular fondness for Keaton, Cameron because of his deep, soulful eyes and House because of his innovative tactics for problem-solving. House had smiled and confessed, "One of the main reasons I wanted to learn to play the piano was so that I could create my own soundtrack live as I watched it, like they did in the old days." Cameron had laughed at the novelty of the idea and said that she would love to see him do so sometime. House had looked at her and given her a quick shake of his head. "No," he said, "I never did it for others, just for myself."

Cameron had murmured something along the lines of, "That's too bad. I would have loved it." It was selfish, she thought, to keep that simple joy to himself; he only shared his brilliance when he could do so with mocking or condescension. Or perhaps she was being too harsh. She sighed silently as she pulled up to her building and searched for parking. She was sad to lose the easy conversation. It had been comfortable and entertaining, as it had been that time she had accompanied House to the monster truck rally, the non-date that had really gotten her hooked on House The Person rather than House The Doctor. As she parked, her nerves began to return. Was this the end of the date, and did she want it to be? Should she make sure that it was? What was House thinking? She glanced over at him, caught him looking at her, and gave him a weak smile. She quickly opened her door and got out.

She took a few steps forward before pausing and waiting for House to join her. When he stepped beside her, she said nothing and began to slowly walk. She was suddenly afraid to look up at House, uncertain if she would see mockery, disdain, or desire. None were scenarios she was confident she could handle at the moment. Not sure what she should do, she headed for her apartment, but in a wide arc that would put them fairly close to his bike. It was a quick and painless out for House, if he wanted to take it. A big part of her hoped he would.

But as she slowly angled toward his bike, she found him slowly angling toward her door. Since he was on her side closest to his bike, his proximity urged her to follow suit and head toward her place. Once they reached her door, Cameron gave House another chance to leave. "Okay, then," she turned to look up at him. "Thanks for the date."

House tilted his head. "No coffee?"

"Oh," Cameron said. "Sure." She turned and unlocked the door, letting House follow her inside. She led him into the center of her living room before pausing and turning around. "I'll just get it started." She left him standing in her living room, but she felt his intense gaze follow her until she found sanctuary in the kitchen.

Busying herself in the other room, Cameron had no way of knowing that House was busy doubting himself. When she walked out of the kitchen, he was near her front door, his back to her. He turned when he heard her enter.

House watched her walk toward him, scanned her figure before meeting her eyes. "I think I'd better leave."

"Why?" Cameron asked, stopping only a foot away from House. She already knew the answer to her question; she could feel the tension between them. It was an energy that had passed between them on countless occasions and was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. But she didn't want to push him tonight, didn't want him dissecting their date or their relationship tonight. She berated herself for even asking the question. And yet, she waited, eager to hear his answer.

"I've got to check in on my other date," House replied. "Wilson promised to make me dinner."

"Okay," Cameron said. She would not push, she thought. "Well, good night, House." Cameron slowly moved in on House, watching him watching her as she leaned in to kiss him softly on the mouth. She let her lips linger, let their breath mingle for a moment, before drawing back.

House's eyes remained on hers, hooded and intense. He stood incredibly still, immobilized as if in a trance, as his mind whirred and assessed. She held still, afraid and excited as she watched his mind work.

After almost a full minute had passed, Cameron began fighting a need to fidget. House wasn't leaving, and she felt as if her heart began to beat faster with each passing moment, a mixture of dread and excitement. Dread because she had no idea how he would react. Excitement over the energy intensifying between them. Her feelings escalated until she found herself near a state of panic, and she lost all thought of caution.

Knowing that she might never have another chance, Cameron brought her arms around House and threw herself into a kiss. Her burst of passion knocked him off balance, sending him backwards, their proximity to the door keeping them from falling completely as he was thrown against it. After several moments of shock, she felt him responding to her and deepened the kiss as she pinned him between her and the door. She didn't hear his cane hit the floor, but a part of her was aware that it must have when both of his hands gripped her arms, pulling her even closer. They stayed that way for several minutes, until, amid heated kiss and touch, Cameron slowly guided him to her bedroom, following the walls for House to lean into along the way.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

House awoke to the pain in his leg, a pain more intense than usual. He immediately reached out for the bottle of Vicodin on his nightstand, but his hand found nothing. House was given a start as his senses began to expand from his pain and he realized why his medicine was not at hand. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. After several seconds of careful inspection from his peripheral vision, House determined he was alone in the room. Relaxing a bit, he looked toward the adjoining bathroom. It was empty.

Wincing in pain, House sat up and looked around the darkened bedroom for his jacket. He couldn't see it, and leaned over in frustration as his leg flashed another intense wave of pain. He had just begun a futile attempt at massaging his leg when he heard Cameron approach from the living room. House watched her walk toward him, dressed for the day in slacks and a button down top. She saw he was up and flicked the switch on as she entered the room. House blinked rapidly in the sudden light, taking in the sate of her hair, still damp and wrapped in a tight coil at the crown of her head. House was surprised he had slept through her showering, and even more surprised he had not awoken to a hair dryer.

Cameron saw his inspection of her dress and seemed to read his mind. "I didn't dry my hair or anything because I didn't want to wake you. But I knew I wouldn't fall back asleep, so…" She drifted off, unwilling to admit that she had lain next to him, staring at him and wondering about him for over an hour, before cursing her romanticism and forcing herself to get up, to do something, to start the day.

"Coffee was cold," she said, handing him a red mug. "But I made some hot chocolate."

House had stopped rubbing his leg, afraid to call attention to it. He found himself reluctant to lift his hands, as it would likely take Cameron's gaze from his and redirect it, after fully exposing his scar. It was after all of this that House also factored in that he had flung the blanket aside as he sat up and was, one might say, indecently exposed.

House watched as Cameron withdrew her arm and a wounded look flitted across her face. In her awkwardness, she dropped her gaze. Of course, House thought irritably, it fell immediately to his leg. He watched her frown at his leg, and pain and irritation merged and intensified until it grew into anger. He didn't want her pity. Or her judgment. He hated feeling disfigured or disabled, in any sense, as he did now. He looked down at his scars. He wondered how she could find him desirable as he reached blindly for the sheets.

Cameron's eyes rose to his face as he yanked the blanket over himself, covering his nudity and his scars, but not his feeling of raw exposure. Cameron opened her mouth to speak but House didn't want to hear it. "Where the hell is my jacket?" he growled.

"Jacket?" Cameron blinked. Normal logic would start with the boxers and work toward the outer layers.

"Jacket!" House barked.

Cameron glanced around the room, but the jacket was nowhere in sight. She did see his boxers, though. She put aside the red mug and reached for them, handing them to House. "I think you left it in my car," she said as he snatched the boxers and shoved his legs through them. "I don't remember taking it off."

House's blood rushed at the mention of the night's activities, and it only fueled his anger. He rose and hobbled around in search for his clothes. What had he been thinking, allowing himself to have sex with Cameron? The sex had confirmed his suspicions of her abilities, and now that he knew what she was capable of, he wasn't about to forget it. Frustration built as he thought of working with her, day after day, knowing what she was capable of night after night. And then, for him to fall asleep in her bed! With Cameron's romantic sensibilities, she was probably ready to set a wedding date! A shiver of fear snaked through him at the thought, closely followed by anger as he realized he wasn't sure what scared him most about the thought.

Finding his jeans, he fell back down onto the bed to pull them on. As he did so, Cameron handed him his top. He didn't look at her when he took it and yanked it on. Spotting his socks and boots, House crossed the room and picked them up, then made his unsteady way to the living room. Cameron lingered in her room a few moments before following him out.

House put his shoes on quickly, consumed by the need to escape. His leg hurt like hell and a confusing mix of anger, irritation, satisfaction, and guilt engulfed him. He knew he was behaving badly, but was too self-concerned to care. Besides, although he felt an underlying need to apologize, he wasn't sure what he would be apologizing for. After all, his pain, anger, and confusion were real and justified. It may not have been entirely her fault, but she was partly responsible, seducing him as she had. She should have known better, he thought.

"House," Cameron began, a hesitant questioning.

"I need my Vicodin," House said as he moved to the front door, leaning over to retrieve his cane. It was the only think he could think to say that was wholly true and could take immediate blame for his behavior. "I'll see you at work," he said as he pulled the door open.

Cameron looked at him in confusion. "At work? Aren't you coming back in?"

House hesitated. "No."

"But it's the middle of the night," Cameron began. "Wh—"

"No, it's not," House shot back. "It's early morning. Big day tomorrow. Got to get ready. I'll see you at work."

He moved quickly from the doorway, not bothering to slam the door because Cameron was right behind him. She stood in the doorway and watched his desperate gait for his bike. "Your jacket?" Cameron asked, "Don't you need my keys?"

House didn't waste any time looking over his shoulder. He felt his bike key in his jeans pocket, grateful he had slipped it there and not in his jacket. He wasn't about to walk back toward Cameron. Between his pain, anger, and desire, he had no idea what he might do. It terrified him. He didn't know how to answer her, so he didn't. Mounting his bike, he remembered that his helmet was also in her car, sitting on the back seat next to his jacket. His pain throbbed with pain at so much activity and House gazed over at the car. Screw it, he thought, he could stand it until he got home. He started his bike and drove off, stripped of all his normal protection. As House rode away, he refused to look behind him, afraid to see the hurt and tears that he knew would be running down Cameron's face.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Cameron stopped in front of the glass doors of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and took several deep breaths. After House had left, she had spent a good hour crying hot tears that only partially helped release the hurt, fear, confusion, and embarrassment she was feeling. Finally, she had forced herself to get up and face the day, then spent the next several hours tidying her place. She had almost cried again as she emptied the cold coffee from the pot and washed it. Then again as she emptied the cold hot chocolate from two mugs and washed them. But she hadn't allowed the tears to escape either time.

Walking to her bathroom, she had washed her face and carefully applied some makeup, hoping to minimize the evidence of her distress. She didn't want House to see the devastating effect his leaving had had on her. Staring blindly through the glass of the hospital entrance, Cameron fingered her oversized sunglasses and sighed. Who was she kidding? He'd know. He'd see it on her face, as would all the other PPTH employees. Well, so be it, she told herself. She wasn't about to let House run her out of her own place of work. She wouldn't let him have that much power over her. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed through the entrance, both frightened and determined about the day ahead of her.

She walked quickly and made it to her floor without having to stop and talk to anyone. Her stride shortened and her steps slowed as she neared the conference room. The nerves in her stomach acted up more with each step she took, and Cameron had the fleeting fear that she would walk in and get sick right in front of her co-workers. She paused for a moment and took several deep breaths before approaching the open glass of the room. Glancing in, she saw only Foreman and Chase. Foreman was looking at an open file before him while Chase flipped through a medical journal.

Her nerves calmed as she opened the door, but she held her breath. A glance toward House's office showed it to be dark and empty. She sighed heavily and strode into the room, setting her things down on the table and making her way to the coffee pot. "Morning," she called, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

Chase and Foreman replied with generic greetings and Cameron wasn't certain they were fully aware of her presence. She gave a small shrug at the thought as she reached for the coffee pot. Her hand froze inches from its handle. She wasn't sure she could bring herself to drink any coffee at the moment, and she reached for a teabag instead. She thought of the file Foreman was studying and wondered if he was looking at test results for their current patient. While the one test had cleared the little boy, Joe, of a terrible and painful disease, they still hadn't diagnosed him. They were still waiting for the results on the boy's blood work, and a few other tests. "Are those the test results?" she asked aloud.

"Nope."

Cameron jumped and turned at House's voice. He was standing in the doorway of his office, which was still dark. She hated it when he did that. She stared at him in shock and found him looking back at her. Several seconds passed before he broke the stillness and entered the room. She turned back to her tea, catching the curious looks from Chase and Foreman as she did so.

"You look terrible," Chase said to House.

"Rough hooker last night," House replied. Cameron's head snapped up but she refused to turn and comment.

"Chase, go bug the lab," House ordered. "Foreman, go check on the patient." Cameron kept her back to the room as she heard them stand and hesitate, each about to comment on the uselessness of their task. And both waiting to see what Cameron would be ordered to do. "Now," House snapped.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Cameron to breathe as the nerves returned and her heart kicked into a fast beat. Her tea was ready but she continued to fiddle with milk and sugar and stirring. She flushed as she felt his gaze on her and silence hung in the air. The silence was worse, she decided. The wait, the tension, the not knowing. She knew she couldn't take the silence much longer. Be calm, be strong, she chanted to herself.

"Cameron…" House said softly.

She could swear she heard regret, and it broke her heart. She had messed up, again. "I'm sorry," she said. Turning around, she caught House's look of surprise. He had stopped several feet from her, and Cameron was grateful for the space. She saw he was about to speak and rushed on. "For last night. That was a mistake." House's features slowly shifted from an expression of surprise to none at all, and it made her nervous. His eyes burned with an intensity that he always seemed to have, and she wasn't sure what she saw there, either. "The date… last night…. I wanted it to be a nice, friendly dinner, that's all. I didn't mean to… I never intended to…."

Cameron's voice trailed off and she silently began to panic. She wasn't ready for this. Not yet, not now. She didn't know what to say, what he wanted to hear, what she wanted him to hear, and she wasn't making much sense at the moment. She had to get away. "I'm just… I'm sorry," she said in a slow, calm voice. She turned and walked briskly to the door. She had to concentrate on every step; even with her brisk pace she felt like wading through water when all she wanted to do was run. She didn't breathe until she was safely down the hallway.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

House watched Cameron walk out and down the hall, and then continued to stare at the spot where she had last been visible. Not a full minute passed before he saw Wilson approaching. Damn, House thought, and he turned to slip as quickly and quietly possible into his darkened office. He knew Wilson could see his retreat through the glass but continued to sneak as if he were hidden.

"House!" Wilson said as he pulled open the conference room door.

"That's the problem with glass walls. They're too easy to see through," House griped as he continued to move at a brisk pace through his office and toward its main door. Wilson strode into House's office through the conference room then followed House through the open door into the hallway. It was no less than House expected. Hoping to forestall the likely conversation, House took the offensive. "You didn't make me dinner!" he accused.

"What happened last night?"

House continued as if Wilson hadn't spoken. "I was hoping for some fancy chicken dish."

"Seriously, I just passed Cameron in the hall. She looked upset."

"Maybe some of that pasta you cooked that one time…"

Wilson had caught up to House and pushed ahead. Turning, he blocked House's progress. "What did you do to her? What happened last night?"

House stopped and dropped his head, not sure what he wanted to reveal. House glanced at the personnel within his view and stepped around Wilson, moving toward a vacant alcove at the end of the hall. "The date was great," he said honestly. "No fancy dinner as I predicted." House paused to throw Wilson a dirty look. "It was almost as if she knew what I was wearing just in time to dress accordingly."

They had reached the alcove, which provided a certain degree of privacy. Several chairs were gathered around a low, tiny table, but both remained standing. Wilson harrumphed and shifted his weight. House studied his face closely but he didn't see any evidence of guilt, only exasperation. "Traitor," House accused.

Wilson wasn't about to let House distract him. "The date was great? That sounds a hell of a lot better than the last one. What did you do?"

House shrugged. "We went to the movies. Drive in." He wagged his eyebrows. "Passion pit."

Wilson's face brightened with a small smile at the novelty of Cameron's idea. "A drive in? What were they showing?"

House smiled. "Silent comedy lineup. Chaplin, Keaton, you know."

"Well, that's different," Wilson said. House nodded and the two smiled in appreciation for several seconds before Wilson prodded. "And that went well?"

"Yeah," House replied after taking a moment to recall the date prior to his romp in the sheets with Cameron. He had been caught up in the moment the night before and was surprised to recall the extent of relaxation and fun he had felt during the date. When he wasn't thinking about Cameron's proximity, that is. "The movies were great, the food was typically bad and extremely overpriced. She paid, of course."

Wilson made a face at House's last comment, not doubting its truth. None of what House described explained Cameron's appearance when Wilson had passed her earlier. She had brushed by him despite his attempt to stop her and ask about her and the date. "And after the date?"

House remained silent, but his expression darkened. He looked at Wilson and continued to say nothing. After several moments, a wave of unease rolled through Wilson's stomach as suspicion developed. "You didn't."

House's eyebrows raised, then he slowly winked. "Oh, yeah," he stated, a hint of pride lacing his voice.

"You idiot!" Wilson exclaimed.

House regretted having given so much away. He really didn't feel like a lecture from Wilson, especially since he doubted Wilson could throw anything at him that he hadn't thrown at himself already. He turned and began to move away.

"What did you _do_ to her?" Wilson demanded. A wave of guilt washed over him as he admonished himself for not warning Cameron away from House.

House had only taken one step, but Wilson's question stopped him in his tracks. He felt compelled to confess to Wilson, and he couldn't help feeling the small bit of hope that Wilson would have useful advice to offer. Or, at the very least, confessing now would lay the groundwork to allow House to complain to Wilson about the situation as things progressed. "I left."

"You _left_? That's it?" Wilson echoed. "What did you say before you left?"

Time stretched as House looked down, then away, then back at Wilson. "Nothing." It sounded worse to House when spoken aloud.

"_Nothing_?!" Wilson's jaw dropped and he took several moments to imagine the situation. Hoping his friend wasn't a complete fool, he asked, "What did you say to her this morning?"

"Nothing," House replied. He could tell that Wilson was about to echo the previous nothing in a shocked manner, but probably louder this time, so he rushed on. "She didn't give me the chance to say anything." He felt slightly better having added that. This morning, at least, he hadn't been a complete jerk. He had intended to talk to Cameron earlier, though he hadn't been sure what it was that he would say.

Wilson sighed in frustration. Almost afraid to hear the answer, he took his time before asking, "What did she say to you?"

House looked up at the ceiling as his cane began to rap against the floor. He didn't speak for a full minute, found it hard to speak at all. "She… _apologized_." He spit it out like a curse.

Wilson stared. House's gaze darted around as the rapping of his cane increased in tempo and force. When Wilson did speak, all he could manage was a dumfounded, "Apologized?"

"Yup." House looked down at the ground and stilled his cane. He couldn't bring himself to look at Wilson's face. "Said it was a mistake."

Wilson was silent for a while and House kept his gaze directed at the ground. His head shot up, however, when Wilson began to laugh. House's eyes narrowed horizontally, not vertically ;-P.

"I bet that's just what you were going to say to her," Wilson said. "But she beat you to it." House refused to admit that Wilson was probably right. Instead, he turned and made his way toward the elevators. Wilson followed, determined to make his point. "It drives you crazy, doesn't it, that she didn't fall to your feet in tears, begging you to love her."

"That would be pathetic," House snapped. They had reached the elevators and he jabbed at the down button.

"Which is just what you wanted her to be," Wilson retorted. "A pathetic, immature girl with stars in her eyes. Good for the ego, and easy to brush off." The doors opened and House stepped into the elevator. "Much more so than a mature woman that you like and respect." The end of "respect" came out in a whoosh as the end of House's cane rammed into Wilson's stomach when he attempted to step into the elevator. The elevator doors began to close. House pulled his cane in at the last moment and Wilson leaned forward to call through the narrowing crack. "Or someone you care about!"


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Cameron walked up to the nurse's station and glanced up at the clock. Not much time had passed since she had checked it before seeing her last clinic patient. Cameron almost groaned as she reached for another patient folder. Not _enough_ time had passed. It had become a day that wouldn't end, and she wasn't sure how she was going to get through the rest of it.

She glared at the clock in frustration. She didn't want to take on another clinic patient. She didn't feel like focusing on them, on dealing with their problems when she had plenty of her own. The thought of House was like an insistent pressure in her head, pushing down behind her eyes in an irritatingly consistent ache.

She was about to release her groan when she heard her name called. Turning, she watched Chase strolled closer, folder in hand. "Joe's test results are in."

Cameron dropped the folder of the clinic patient she held and stepped toward him. "What's it say? Can we diagnose him?"

Chase smiled and opened folder as he held it out to her. "Take a look for yourself."

Encouraged, Cameron grabbed it and scanned the results. A slow smile spread over her face as she looked up to Chase. "He's going to be alright."

"Yup," Chase confirmed. His brow was creased a bit and Cameron noticed he no longer smiled. Her curiosity must have shown clearly on her face because Chase immediately relaxed his face and shrugged. "Didn't think I'd see you smile today. Something on your mind? Or… someone?" The smile on Cameron's face dissolved into a frown as she stepped past him. "Did it tick you off, being called a hooker?"

Cameron stopped and gave Chase a cold look from over her shoulder. "Drop it," she warned. Chase's mouth tilted dangerously close to a smile. Cameron took a second to imagine the satisfaction of hitting him right in the mouth. She took a calming breath instead. Reacting would only confirm and encourage him, she told herself. Don't hit. "I'm going to tell Joe and his parents," she said with a cool smile, "that _my_ idea during the differential diagnosis proved to be correct. Proving yours wrong, on the other hand, won me a bet."

She turned and walked away quickly, not allowing herself the time to see if the barb hit its mark. Her diagnosis was right. Proper medication and the boy would be okay. She sighed with relief as a small portion of the tension in her drained away. She had good news for the family, and she couldn't be happier. She wasn't sure how she would have survived the day if it had been bad news for the boy and his family.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

House sat in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk as he focused on the colors and lines of the ball he rotated in his hands. His mind had been wandering to Cameron for the past several minutes and he was making no progress in ignoring them, so he sat back and pondered his night with Cameron.

House tipped back further in his chair, balancing his weight with playful cockiness. He had to admit, if only to himself, that it was a greatly spent night. His body relaxed in satisfaction as he recalled specific details. That deep red top moving along her skin; the soft texture of the blankets; his cane left by the front door. House frowned. His cane by the front door. He knew he had left it there, by the door. But his only certainty of that came from his search for it during his hasty retreat in the morning. He spent several long seconds concentrating, trying to recall the exact moment that he dropped the cane. He couldn't. Frustrated when he found nothing, he did a mental fast-forward through the rest of the night.

He knew they had spoken, on their way to the bedroom, and in the bed. What had she said? What had _he_ said? The feelings of satisfied lethargy began to fade and House's chest began to tighten. His hands stilled and his fingers dug into the ball.

What had he said?

He couldn't recall. Impossible, he told himself. He had always been aware of what he said, ever since…. Ever since Stacy. The tightness in his chest intensified as he thought back to his last months of his relationship with Stacy, and more recently the last time he had been with Stacy. In those last months, he had been careful about what he said and did—in bed and out. But that last time they had been together, his actions had been especially calculated, hand-tailored to her preferences, and he could recall every word. Any casual encounter he had had since them had been much the same. He always knew exactly what he said; it was banter that had almost become routine in recent years.

His stomach dropped as he struggled to place similar banter into the scenario with Cameron the night before. It didn't fit. Panic, embarrassment, annoyance all pressed against his chest. House glanced at his leg and remembered the scene from the early hours of the morning, how Cameron had seen what he didn't want her to see. Anger flashed through House and he tensed, his legs pushing against the table. It was enough movement to tip his balance and send him falling backwards out of his chair.

"Test results are in."

House watched Chase enter his office from the floor. The embarrassment and anger he was feeling flared, then intensified as he saw Foreman stepping into the office behind him. The ball, which he had dropped during the fall, had bounced against the glass separating the office and the conference room and was now rolling to a stop at Chase's feet. House glowered at it as he snapped, "What?"

Chase halted, reluctant to have House's anger directed toward him. House's insults were grating enough when he was being playful. After Cameron's recent comment, Chase was in no mood to be the brunt of House's barbs.

Foreman looked around Chase and sighed, striding forward to offer House a hand. House scowled at him before reaching up for assistance. "Test results are back," Foremen said. "Cameron was right."

"That so?" House asked. "Where is she?"

"Right here." Cameron stepped into the room. "I was just with the patient and his parents. I started the medication, gave them the good news. Their son will be fine."

A chorus of beeps filled the air as each doctor was paged. House pulled his out and read the message before looking back at Cameron. "Then why is he crashing?"


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Cameron rushed into the patient's room, which was now overrun with nurses, and joined the frantic mission. "Get them out," she called to one nurse while tossing her head toward the boys shouting parents. Everything that had been bothering her in the day was forgotten as she concentrated on stabilizing the patient.

Seconds later, the boy was stabilized and Cameron was checking his vitals. She ordered the patient off of his current medication and onto a new one before slowly making her way into the hallway to reassure the parents. She had just stepped out of the doors when she heard a shout.

"You're fired!" House shouted.

Cameron froze as she watched him approach, Chase and Foreman keeping pace on either side. They had gone to the elevator with him while she had run down the stairs and were just arriving. At his words, both Chase and Foreman's stride faltered as their faces fell in shock. Cameron turned horrified eyes from them to Joe's parents, whose faces were a mixture of shock and panic. "He'll be fine," she assured them. "He had a bad reaction to the medication so I switched—"

"Take care of him," House snapped to Chase and Foreman. He had stopped several feet from the patient's room and spared it a quick glance. Now, House turned his anger on Cameron, his eyes burning into hers. "That was out of line. Go home."

Cameron's cheeks flushed a bright red as he turned and rapidly moved toward the elevators.

"What did you do? What happened?" asked the boy's mother from beside her.

Cameron turned her startled gaze toward the parents. "Nothing," she answered them. The shock began to fade as humiliation and anger took over. "Your boy's going to be fine. He just needs a different medication, which I already ordered. Doctors Chase and Foreman will confirm that. He'll be fine. Excuse me."

She dashed down the hall after House. The elevator doors opened while she was several feet away and House jumped in and reached for the "Door Close" button. Cameron ran at full speed, fueled by her anger, barging through the doors just before they closed. House looked up in surprise and anger and let out a curse. An elderly couple stood to one side and pushed themselves as far into the wall as possible. Cameron ignored them as she yelled, "What was that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like," House yelled back. "That was me firing you!"

Cameron's jaw dropped and she took a step closer. "On what grounds?"

"Giving them hope!" House shouted.

It was an absurd statement, and both of them knew it. Cameron's stunned stare was met by House's glare of embarrassment. Neither noticed as the elevator came to a halt and opened its doors for the elderly couple to dash through. And neither noticed Wilson standing in the hallway with a fascinated stare of his own as the elderly couple rushed past him. Wilson stood still and silent, afraid to break the tension that pulsated from the elevator. He would take the next one. A small smile flicked at the tips of his mouth as he looked at them. A fight could be good, he thought. He hoped.

The elevator doors slid back shut and its movement jarred Cameron out of her silence. "What?"

House stared for another several moments, his mind racing. "You ran to the patient's family to give them the good news before confirming the diagnosis with me."

"The test confirmed the diagnosis!" Cameron shouted. "He had a bad reaction to the first medication, that's all! It's been switched and he'll be fine! And that's not grounds for firing me, especially coming from you!"

They had missed their floor and the elevator had reversed course during the exchance. The elevator came to a halt and opened its doors as she finished her rant. Wilson's face lit up with interest as the arguing couple once again stood before him. He took a quick glance at the colleagues in the hallway who had stopped what they were doing to stare. While he didn't want to disrupt the argument, he decided to come to their rescue. And besides, he had work to do. Wilson didn't bother to hide his smile, but did have the grace to add a bit of embarrassment and concern to his look and tone. "Ahem." Inside the elevator, House and Cameron both turned towards the interruption and Wilson locked eyes with House. "You might want to move this to your office."


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Cameron was quiet as they rode the elevator back to their floor. She had looked mortified for several seconds after the doors had closed, before her face had clouded over and the bafflement was gone. Only the anger remained, House thought. And yet she held herself silent. Probably clinging to a sense of professionalism. Pointless, he figured, as it was too late for that. The silence was only a temporary respite, he knew, but he was grateful for the break. He needed to formulate an argument.

He was furious about his outburst. He hadn't meant to say it; he didn't even know why he said it. Or perhaps he wasn't willing to admit where the words had come from. He knew Cameron was right about his reasoning, but he refused to admit it. He was determined to commit to his outburst, no matter how absurd. He would just have to make it work.

Unwilling to give Cameron the upper hand—especially as he feared she already had it—House began his attack as soon as he pushed open his office door. "You care too much. You jump on a diagnosis that has a happy ending just so you can run and tell the patients and their families that everything's going to be all right. It's irresponsible and dangerous." It was true, House thought. For the most part.

"Good thing I'm learning from you, then," Cameron countered. "You care too little. You jump on a diagnosis that has a crappy outcome just so you can talk about what lying, hypocritical idiots people are. Which is irresponsible and dangerous." It was true, Cameron thought. For the most part.

House had walked to his desk and turned his back to it to face Cameron, who had stopped several feet away. "Learned," House snapped. "Past tense. I fired you, remember?"

Cameron waited a few seconds before responding. "Is this about this morning?"

House's heart skipped a beat and his breath hitched at the question. "It's about your _work_," House countered, hoping his pause of breath was brief enough to go unnoticed. "You don't belong here. Go work in oncology. You can be all caring and inspirational to the _Lifetime_ survival patient of the week. And you can marry whoever's doomed to die."

Harsh, House knew, but he was desperate. He made an effort to push away guilt and shame for sinking so low. Cameron's flinch made it difficult and angered him more. She dropped he head and stared at the carpet with a stricken expression.

House wanted to look away but could only stare. He wanted to speak, to break the silence, but he didn't know what to say. He wanted to apologize, but refused to. He wanted to push harder, be crueler, but couldn't. He wanted her to accept the firing and leave, but also wanted her to stay and push back. House opened his mouth, but no words came out. So he simply stared, watched as her face faded into something unreadable.

Several minutes passed before she raised her head to meet his gaze. He had expected to see hurt or anger. Or hate. He saw no trace of any of these things. A wave of unease rolled through House as tried to read her expression and realized he couldn't. He wasn't sure of what he saw. Except for an overwhelming calm as she silently scrutinized him. It was dangerous to be caught in an argument with someone so calm. It was a sign of self-assurance, of conviction. Calm people had the answers. Calm people had the upper hand. And if they didn't, _they_ likely thought they did, which amounted to the same.

It was like she was lost inside her own thoughts, working on a puzzle. House was uncomfortable with the thought. She looked like he often felt when he was working his own puzzles. Anxious to stop Cameron from working the puzzle, House opened his mouth to speak.

Cameron spoke first. "I know my compassion frustrates you." Her voice was conversational, as unnervingly calm as her expression. "I know I sometimes push for the diagnosis that is most optimistic for the patient or the one that gives the patient the benefit of the doubt. And I've been wrong because of it. Just as you've been wrong before when assuming the most cynical diagnosis. But I don't ignore the other possibilities. I just hope for the best outcome."

She was right, but House wouldn't say so. Instead, he looked away. "It's pointless."

"To hope?" Cameron asked. House didn't answer, but looked back at her instead. Cameron waited for their eyes to meet before slowly speaking. "No. It's not." She let that hang in the air for a moment. "And it's not wrong. And it's not something to fire me for. And I didn't give false hope to that family because of some need for a happy ending. I gave real hope and relief to that family because the tests confirmed it."

House hated losing arguments; even more, he hated conceding defeat. "Fine," House said, hoping he sounded nothing more than annoyed. "I have officially un-fired you. Now go."

Cameron took a step toward House. "This _is_ about this morning, isn't it?"

House's annoyance became genuine. "Yes," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you you're rubbish in bed. So I fired you instead." His voice was infused with enough sarcasm to pull the sting from the statement.

"I wasn't talking about that," Cameron snapped. The temper was back, and House would've been grateful for it if they were arguing about anything else. "I meant this morning. When you covered your leg and shouted about your Vicodin before making a quick exit."

"My leg hurt."

"And that's it?"

"Yup. Sorry to disappoint."

"Then you should have gotten your jacket from my car." The quick exchange came to a brief halt as House searched for a reply. Cameron didn't give him the chance. "Why'd you cover your scar?"

"I was massaging it!"

"With the sheet?"

"I used the sheet to cover my _down-theres_," House shot back, dropping to an exaggerated whisper at the end. "I'm really shy at heart and your adoring look was just _embarrassing_."

Cameron let out a huff of exasperation. "Why can't you talk about it?"

"My mother raised me right? Conservative upbringing and all that."

"Your leg! Why can't you talk about your leg?"

"I talk about it all the time."

"You _use_ it all the time," Cameron argued. "You use it to excuse your behavior, to deflect everything and everyone. You used it when you ran out on me this morning!"

House slammed the bottom of his cane on the floor. "I wasn't using it to leave, I left _because_ of it!"

"Because I looked at it?"

"Because it hurt!"

"And I looked at it."

"Yes!" House yelled. "You looked at it! With the same damn look you give the patients I save! I don't want your compassion or your pity; it won't fix my leg!" House whipped his cane up and repeatedly thrust it at Cameron in further accusation.

Cameron caught the cane on the third thrust and yanked it from House's hand. Overbalanced, House fell against the edge of his desk, sending his ball bouncing across the floor for the second time that day. He was too far from the desk to have it catch him, and he continued to fall. Reaching out, House threw himself sideways into the wall.

Cameron approached him as he braced himself. "Give me my cane ba—" House's demand was cut off as Cameron reached out and shoved House backward. He slid, one side against the wall, jarring to a halt as he landed in a chair facing his desk.

"Too bad!" Cameron shouted, tossing the cane on his desk. She stepped between the chair and the desk and stood directly over House, bent down with her hands braced on the arms of the chair. Trapping him. "You have my compassion! And my pity! You know why? Because I _care_ about you!" House looked down, his eyes searching for anything that wasn't Cameron. "That's what really bothers you, isn't it? That I care about you?"

Eyes dropped, House settled for looking at the cleavage exposed from Cameron's bent stance. They may be arguing, but that didn't make her ugly. House's mind began to wander back to their night together as he replied. "It's pointless." Cameron didn't speak, didn't move. He continued to stare at her chest, not wanting to look up. Seconds ticked by, and Cameron remained still and silent. House knew that standing as she was, it was only a matter of time before she'd have to move. But sitting there, trapped between her and a chair, seeing her and smelling her, he felt like he was being tortured. He couldn't wait that long. Curious, impatient, he looked up.

Cameron let his eyes meet hers, held them, and waited several seconds more before speaking. "No. It's not." House looked away, face to the wall, his head twisted so that he was almost looking over his shoulder. "Besides, they're my feelings to feel. You can't control them." Cameron paused. "Can you control yours?" House didn't answer. "Because it seems to me like they've been controlling you today."

House brought his eyes around to meet hers. "Give me back my cane."

Cameron straightened and stepped back, turning to grab his cane. She faced him again, his cane gripped in her hand. "No."

House watched her walk across his office. "Cameron!" he called as she pushed open his door. She didn't bother to look back as she ignored him and stepped into the hallway. "You're re-fired!" he yelled at the closing door.

Cursing, House pulled the prescription bottle from his jacket pocket. He stared at it briefly before tossing it onto his desk. It wouldn't be enough. He needed something more.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

House stood and propped himself against the wall. Moving forward, he braced himself on his desk and made his way around it until he reached his chair. Twirling it so that its back faced him, he pulled it around and used it to balance himself as he headed for the door. House stumbled forward as his weight overbalanced the chair. He used his free hand to push down against the front of the armrest, just managing to keep the chair, and himself, from tumbling to the floor. House took a moment to adjust the chair, positioning as best he could to keep it from overbalancing again. Frustrated that he couldn't stride quickly and angrily, House slammed open his office door and angled for the elevators. He had just hit the "down" button on the elevator when he heard Wilson call his name. Groaning, House leaned forward and began to hit the "down" button repeatedly. He ignored Wilson's calls and urged the elevator to come to his rescue.

Wilson reached House just as the elevator doors opened. House cursed the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor before he stepped toward the back corner, leaning against the wall and holding the chair out in front of him. "What happened?" Wilson asked, ignoring House's glower as he followed him onto the elevator. "Where's Cameron?" He glanced at the lit elevator button. "Are you going to the clinic?" House ignored Wilson as the elevator descended. Wilson turned his attention back to House. "Where's your cane?" he asked as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

"Turn around," House said.

"What?"

House gestured to the open doors with his head. Wilson turned and began to step out just as House pushed back against the wall and thrust the chair forward. The front of the chair tilted upward and into the back of Wilson's legs, causing him to fall clumsily backward. House tilted forward but was saved from falling as all four of the chair's wheels slammed to the ground under Wilson's weight. "Might as well be useful," House said as he pushed Wilson off of the elevator and past two gaping people, on of whom was Cuddy.

"What are you doing?" Wilson demanded. "What happened to your cane? Drop it between closing doors again?"

House continued to ignore Wilson's questions as he angled toward an empty room and pushed them to an IV drip stand. Grabbing it, he turned and made his way back out of the room, leaving Wilson sitting in the chair. As he walked away House called over his shoulder, "That's my chair. Put it back in my office when you're done with it."

Wilson jumped up and exited the room. House had moved quickly with the IV drip stand and was nearing the front doors. Wilson was about to call out when he heard Cuddy do so from close behind him.

"House! Where are you going?" she yelled.

"Lunch!" House yelled back without pause.

Cuddy stopped next to Wilson and together they watched as a nurse attempted to stop House from taking equipment out of the building. After a brief tug of war and some shouted obscenities, House prevailed and marched out of the hospital. The nurse turned, presumably to call security, when she caught Cuddy's eye. Cuddy shook her head and gestured for her to leave it be. "What's going on with House?" Cuddy asked as she turned to face Wilson. "He's acting like the devil's on his tail."

Wilson thought a moment, still looking toward the front doors, before he murmured, "More like an angel. Damnation doesn't scare him _that_ much. He'd just as soon fight the devil."

Cuddy followed Wilson's logic but wasn't sure why it was relevant. She felt as if she was missing something in the conversation, so she held silent. Curious, she waited for Wilson to say more.

Wilson thought for several seconds more before turning his attention to Cuddy. "I have the feeling that House won't be coming back from lunch."

Cuddy huffed in frustration. If she had known House was in such a state, she'd have done something to stop him from leaving. She knew he didn't have an urgent case to be working on, but he was definitely behind on his clinic hours. Cuddy looked at Wilson with bewilderment as she realized that she had no idea why House was in a mood. Before she could speak, Wilson added on to his previous statement.

"Cameron might not come back from her lunch, either."

Cuddy's eyebrows shot up as she stared at Wilson with interest. Drawing some quick conclusions, she gave a quick nod. "Just be sure they know I expect to see them both tomorrow. For the full day. With clinic duty."

Wilson nodded and turned for the elevators. He took two steps before he paused, turned, and disappeared into a room. Seconds later, he emerged and made his way toward the elevators with chair in tow.

Ten minutes later, the chair was back in House's office and Wilson found Cameron as she stood outside her patient's room, looking in at the family through the glass.

Wilson looked at the boy. "How is he?" he asked.

"Getting better," Cameron answered. "He'll be fine." Wilson looked hesitant to speak and she took advantage of that fact for several moments. Eventually, she spoke. "Did he tell you about last night?"

Wilson glanced at her. "I know it didn't end well," he said awkwardly. "Because House was a jerk."

Cameron's mouth lifted in a humorless smile. "I saw his scar. He freaked out. Not about the sex," she added with some embarrassment, "but about the scar. I could see it in his face the instant it hit him."

"I don't think House has ever been able to accept that he's not perfect," Wilson said. "And I think he has a hard time believing that anyone else could. The leg gives him a convenient excuse. Most people let him get away with it. You don't."

Wilson glanced down as Cameron shifted to face him with arms crossed. Between Cameron and the wall, he spotted House's cane. Smiling, he brought his eyes back up to hers. "That explains a lot."

Cameron took a deep breath. "I didn't know how to get through to him."

"You know," Wilson said, "for a guy who can't walk without a cane, it's amazing how much running House does. I saw him leaving a few minutes ago. He was definitely running from something." He quickly glanced at the cane. "But it looks like you slowed him down some." Wilson gave Cameron a small smile of encouragement. "Maybe even enough for you to catch him." Cameron stared at Wilson for several moments before hope flittered over her face. He watched as she reached for the cane. "You're cleared to take the rest of the day off."

"Thanks," Cameron said. She leaned forward and gave Wilson a kiss on the cheek. "Wish me luck," she said. Taking a deep breath, she headed down the hall, her knuckles going white on the hand gripping House's cane.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

House sat directly in the center of his sofa, hunched forward and immobile. An unused needle and a piece of rubber tubing lay on the table before him. Both were forgotten as House stared vacantly at the little glass container of morphine in his hand. The utter stillness and quiet of the scene was a direct contrast to the loud frenzy of the war within him. He needed control, but he wasn't sure what the control he needed was.

If he couldn't control his feelings, he could control having them. Or the caring about having them. Staring at the morphine, he reminded himself that he did have at lest that much power, even if it was a temporary achievement. He could dull the feeling. Besides, he considered, it had been a while since he had taken a Vicodin pill. If he thought about his leg, he could sense the dull ache in his thigh that always seemed to burn just under the veil of medication. Morphine could control that pain, as well. House repeated that thought to himself several times, as it seemed less cowardly of an excuse to the drug than his former reasoning.

However, taking the morphine was also a relinquishment of control. As often as he used the power of medication to dull his feelings and pains, and as flippant as he was about it, he knew he was allowing the medication to have a kind of control over him. While he could justify it until his last breath with a resentful nod toward his leg, he still considered his use of medication a weakness. It was not something he was proud of and just another negative mark in his tallies of self value. He had given in to the allure of the morphine not terribly long ago and was somewhat reluctant to let it take him over again.

The war within House came to a sudden stand-still as a series of short, rapid knocks sounded at his door. House tensed and, unsure of what to do, remained frozen. The knocking sounded again and was overlapped at the end by Cameron's voice calling his name. House knew his presence could not be denied. But should he simply ignore her, or acknowledge her? He should ignore her, he thought. To acknowledge her presence would give her power. "Go away," House called, adding a mental curse for himself.

His hand tightened on the morphine as he heard the door open. He hadn't bothered to lock it. House found himself vaguely surprised at his lack of anger at Cameron as she walked into his home uninvited. Rather, there seemed to be an odd mixture of ambivalence, relief, and fear. And a strong sense of fatalism as he determined that it was time to end this. Part of his relief, he knew, was that her entrance ended the personal debate in which he'd been caught. He would not use the morphine in Cameron's presence.

House kept his eyes on his hands and his body still as Cameron came into the room. He was afraid that she already had enough power in the situation, and he willed himself to obey his initial decision and ignore her. While he forced himself to look relaxed and disinterested, a new internal battle began.

House kept his head bent down but raised his eyes, watching as Cameron rounded the couch and came to a stop no more than a foot before him. She stood still and silent, and House could feel her eyes on the top of his head. His jacket was draped over her left arm and his helmet was held in her right hand. The arm with the helmet was bent up, and wedged into the crook of her arm was his cane. Cameron stood silent for a minute, as if waiting for him to speak.

House let his gaze fall to the floor. Relief had washed over him at the sight of his belongings. And the knowledge that he would not have to ask for them again. Waves of emotion crashed over House. He told himself it was all the emotions radiating from Cameron, and quickly pushed away the idea that some of them were his own. She could feel enough for the both of them, he thought. She always did.

He refused to give in to her silent plea to speak. Every time he did, he seemed to lose a little more of his control, a little more of his power over the situation. He stared at the bottle of morphine in his hand in silence, slowly spreading his hand around it to hide it from view.

Several minutes must have passed before Cameron spoke. "I brought your cane," she said quietly. When House didn't reply, she added, "And your jacket and helmet."

"I can see that," House replied with barely a trace of sarcasm. He gaze focused on the bottle wrapped in his hand.

Cameron waited a few moments before slowly moving to his side. He watched her in his peripheral vision as she bent to sit beside him, laying his items over top of the needle and tubing on the table as she did so, obscuring them. She hesitated slightly half way down—so briefly that he almost missed it—and shifted so that as she sat, she closed some of the distance between them. House was oddly moved by the gesture. A flash of unease went through him at the feeling. Why wouldn't she just give up? What did a guy have to do? They sat in silence for a few moments, with House keeping his head bent and eyes downcast, and Cameron examining him with a somber gaze.

"I wish—" Cameron began softly.

House cut her off. "I wish you'd just give up on me," he said gruffly.

Cameron didn't give an immediate reply, and House tensed, waiting for her response. He flinched slightly as Cameron's hand came to his, but couldn't seem to pull it away. He watched as her fingers slowly slid around his, and his skin tingled in response. His interest shifted to confusion when he realized that her hand wasn't stopping to rest on his. Rather, he regarded the scene in fascination as her hand continued to move over his.

His skin tingled now not only from her hand, but from the cool glass sliding between his fingers. When Cameron's hand slid away, he watched as it carried the bottle of morphine and set it on the table in front of him with a definite thump. It was odd, he thought. The sensation of intimacy and release he felt as he relinquished the drug to someone else; it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. And he was very afraid that something major had changed in him.

"I wish I could," Cameron said.

At first, House wasn't sure what she was responding to. His mind scrambled to recall his last statement. He had asked her to give up on him. As he contemplated her words, he wondered how she had taken his statement. He had meant it to mean that she should give up on wanting him and his affections. He wondered now if she had taken it to mean he wanted her to give up on him, period. As a person. As a man. Perhaps even as a doctor and mentor. House finally raised his eyes to meet hers in search of an answer to his question. As their eyes connected, he had the uneasy feeling that her statement had been an answer to all of it. She would not give up on him, period.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

"I wish," Cameron began, pausing to make sure House wouldn't interrupt her again, "that you could tell me there's no chance, no hope—"

House cut in. "There isn't."

"And that I could believe it," she finished. House looked at her with mild surprise. He didn't reply, so she guessed he was waiting to hear what she said next. Only to interrupter her again, Cameron thought ruefully. "I enjoy your company," she began. House raised an eyebrow and his face contorted in disbelief and Cameron let out a short laugh. House's eyes dropped to her shoulders, the movement from her laughter bringing back in vivid detail the sensation of her laugh on his skin at the drive-in. While her laugh was a treat to the ears, nothing compared to the sensation of how it felt.

Unaware of his thoughts, Cameron continued. "Okay, there are times when I enjoy your company," she qualified. "With the exception of our first date, when I screwed things up royally, we have a good time when we go out. There were moments when you would forget to be sarcastic and insulting and you were just…you. I've even seen glimpses of you as charming, carefree, maybe even a little _happy_."

House frowned at the idea of being described as carefree and happy. Cameron's heart dropped in sorrow as she saw how alien those adjectives were in describing House. "Last night, things just…clicked." She saw the hint of a sharp grin flash over House's face and spoke quickly. "I meant at the drive-in. But what happened afterwards.…" Cameron's eyes caught House's in a direct gaze. "That felt right, too." She waited a beat. "I don't want to give up on any of that. Not when it feels like there's potential for something…great."

House sighed and looked at the floor. He didn't have the heart for sarcasm at this point. Or the energy. He felt drained. "There's not."

"How can you be so sure?" Cameron pressed, a thread of anger lacing her voice. "Don't tell me you're not interested because I know that's not true. You may not like my outlook on life, but I know you like _me_. I know you're attracted to me, and I damn well know you enjoyed yourself last night. We have a good time together when you forget to be a jerk. So why couldn't we work? Why can't we have more nights like last night? Why won't you even try?" House didn't answer. "I have the right to know that much. The truth. Something I can believe." When House continued to remain silent, she added a soft "Please."

"Because," he finally answered. It took several moments for him to continue his response, and even then he didn't look at her. "I'm vindaloo curry."

Cameron stared at House in disbelief. Another metaphor? That was his explanation? At least it wasn't a sports metaphor, she told herself. Well, she didn't think it was, anyway. "What?"

"Vindaloo curry," House repeated. "I'm…it's very spicy and eating it tears apart your mouth and you get sick of it. It's inevitable. And even if you find yourself yearning for curry after a long while, once you have it again, it's never as good as your memory was making it out to be and you wonder why you missed it so much."

Cameron continued to stare, somewhat appalled by House's metaphor, and how he saw himself reflected in it. She didn't know how he got this idea in his head, but she sensed that her response to it was crucial. She wasn't sure how he expected her to reply, so she said the first thing that popped into her head. "You just don't know how to eat curry."

House looked up in surprise and Cameron saw something light up behind his eyes. It looked like something incredibly close to hope. Whatever it was, it urged Cameron on. "You're not supposed to gorge on it until it burns your mouth out; you eat it in moderation. You use enough to spice up your food, and your mouth; to make things interesting and to bring to life taste buds you didn't know you had. It's to be savored steadily throughout your life to remind you of what you have and to enjoy it."

She paused for a breath, and House's lack of response impelled her to continue. "If you're vindaloo curry, House, it's because you're like one of the hot spices of life that make things interesting. You're never boring. And because you help people to appreciate their lives and you bring to life parts of people that they didn't know they had. Literally." She waited a beat before adding, "Being vindaloo curry is what makes you so special."

House's gaze was locked onto Cameron's and a warm sense of satisfaction filled her. She felt like she had scored a touchdown, hit a home run, made the game winning three-point shot, and whatever other sports jargon amounted to winning the game. As she saw the hint of a smile on House's face, Cameron felt as if she had stood before the mighty Sphinx and correctly answered his riddle. She practically tingled with the anticipation of his response.

House looked at her in silence for a moment before speaking. "What a load of crap."

"Well, so was the damn metaphor," Cameron snapped, flushed with temper and embarrassment. House's head tilted back and he let out a loud shout of laughter. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to snap something rude before stomping to the door.

She shut her mouth quickly as he reached for his cane and stood. Cameron sat in a huff but stayed silent, too curious about House's actions to interrupt. She saw him go into the kitchen and pull something from the fridge before moving toward the pantry. After retrieving something from there, he made his way back into the living room, the unidentifiable items cradled in his free arm. He stopped when he stood over Cameron and dumped the items into her lap before turning to his piano.

Shock and confusion rose in equal parts as Cameron stared down at the items in her lap: an unopened package of strawberry Pop-Tarts and a corsage that looked very much like the one House had given her on her first date.

Cameron looked to House for an explanation. "Dinner," he said.

"The corsage?" she asked.

Ignoring her joke, he angled his head toward his entertainment center. "Top shelf," he said. "You can pick your movie."

More curious than ever, she set aside the corsage and Pop-Tarts and went to the entertainment center. Lining the top shelf was a DVD collection of silent films. Cameron's heart skipped a beat and she looked at House with an unasked question in her eyes.

He had turned to face the keyboard. "Your choice," House confirmed. He wanted to smile but couldn't quite manage one. Cameron's heart flipped as the thought that he was about to share something with her that he had never shared with anyone before.

Cameron scanned the titles before pulling out the Buster Keaton movie they had watched together the night before. She loaded it into the DVD player and muted the television as the movie menu popped up. Grabbing the remote, she went back to the couch and picked up her other items. Instead of sitting down and facing the television set, she walked over and sat next to House on the piano bench.

Without speaking she handed him the corsage box and waited for him to pin it on her. His eyes held hers and his fingers lingered. By the time he finished fastening the flowers, Cameron was flushed and smiling. Picking up the Pop-Tarts, Cameron opened the packaging and pulled one out. She handed the first one to House and pulled the second one out as her own.

House set his Pop-Tart aside without a bite. While Cameron took a small bite of hers, he grabbed the remote and started the film. He had only run his fingers over a couple of notes before Cameron put a hand over his and stilled it. When he turned to look at her, she hooked a hand behind his neck and brought him down for a kiss.

A short while later, House pulled back. "I don't much care for spicy foods."

Cameron smiled her response. "Shut up and play."

END


End file.
